Somebody to Love
by Wholocklolly
Summary: Things get pleasantly out of hand at Mary and John's wedding reception... One-shot.


**A/N: Chandler gave me a prompt for a one-shot, so here it is. Hope this is alright lovely!**

**I'm taking prompts in my ask on my tumblr in an effort to get my muse back to continue writing my fics. If you'd like to contribute, my tumblr is consultingsassmaster. :) Just a heads up, if it's a sexy one-shot, I usually post them on rather than tumblr. **

**Enjoy!**

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Taking another long draw from her beer, Molly nearly choked when Sherlock made an incredibly rude comment (he would say observation) about one of the bridesmaids at Mary and John's wedding reception.

"Sherlock, that's awful!" she said, her voice sounding too loud to her own ears, but she couldn't care less. His tie was pulled loose and his curls were unruly, spilling over his forehead. God, she wanted to snog him. But if she moved forward too much, she feared she might fall off her seat.

"It might be awful, but it's true," he said, and she began to laugh when he took a sip of his whiskey. She could've sworn she saw his pinky finger lift marginally, or perhaps the lights above the bar were messing with her vision. It _was _awfully bright and everything seemed to spin if she tipped her head to the side. The music pounded behind them, and dozens of people swayed together on the dance floor, the happy couple sat at the head table, absolutely doting on one another.

It was easy to get caught up in the warmth radiating from both Mary and John, and Molly had at first, gazing at them from her spot across the room, before Sherlock had sat down in front of her and blocked her view. He was of course John's best man, but he absolutely loathed weddings, and decided to find the only person he'd care to actually sit by that wasn't gushing over how lovely the wedding was. Molly knew he didn't like meaningless banter, so to keep herself occupied for the time being, she spoke to him about the only thing she knew he w_ould _like to talk about; corpses and murder.

After a while of easy conversation about various cases, Molly's doting interest switched from Mary and John to Sherlock. She prided herself on being over him now, but he still was devilishly handsome and she hated how good he looked in the slim fitted suit and smart tie that matched the ensemble nicely.

"Do you want to get a drink?" she had asked, speaking loudly so her voice would carry over the music. Sherlock seemed to think on this for a moment, before he nodded and stood, both of them making towards the bar area. One drink led to another, and soon enough they were both utterly smashed, giggling and speaking rapidly between the two of them. They were quite a spectacle to most of the party goers, having never seen Sherlock behave in such a way.

Suddenly, a very particular song came on, and Molly quickly downed the rest of her drink before slipping off her stool, staggering slightly. Sherlock reached a hand out and easily steadied her as she called out, "Dance with me!" before letting out an excited giggle. "This is my favourite song!"

She tugged at his sleeve and Sherlock reluctantly staggered behind her onto the dance floor. Most of the wedding guests had taken a break from dancing for the time being, so Molly and Sherlock took up the centre of the designated area for dancing. Sherlock seemed uncomfortable with Molly dancing without restraint in front of him, before he finally seemed to loosen up and swayed with her. Soon enough, they were both moving wildly together, Sherlock's hands on her hips as Molly grinded against him.

Mary and John couldn't help but laugh at the two from across the room, and the horrified expressions of the mothers with children that were shielding their eyes from the display in the middle of the room. Those from Scotland Yard that John had invited, namely Lestrade, Sally, and Anderson (the latter just to spite Sherlock, as he wouldn't keep his nose out of the guest list) were all laughing madly and taking pictures of the pair.

"Blimey, think we should stop them?" Mary said quietly John, snorting.

"Nah, they're fine," John replied. "It's about time he got some." Mary smacked him gently but laughed.

Across the room, Molly barely registered the hard press of something against her arse as she danced against Sherlock, singing along to the song that was currently on. His hot breath was blowing against the back of her head, and she could've sworn she'd heard him groan. Spinning her in his grip, Sherlock pressed his lips close to her ear. "There's a hotel across the street."

It took Molly a moment to register what he was implying, as the alcohol was making her thoughts sluggish. But when she finally did, her eyes widened and she nodded hard. His hand slipped over hers and they quickly gathered their things, escaping out of the reception hall, staggering and laughing as they stumbled across the street.

Once in the elevator, after booking a room, Molly was hardly able to keep from attacking Sherlock, her mouth heavy and hot against his, slightly clumsy. They tripped going out, their giggles ringing out across the hall as Sherlock backed Molly against a wall and kissed her until they were both breathless. When Molly tried getting at the zip of Sherlock's trousers, he walked backwards towards their room.

It took a few tries to get the key card to open the door, but when they did finally get into the room, their actions only became more frenzied. Their kisses became desperate and hungry, their hands sliding over each other. Sherlock rucked up Molly's dress but she still had a measure of sense enough to stagger backwards and drape her dress over the sofa. She took off her knickers and bra while she was at it, Sherlock fumbling with his zip and his suit shirt.

Eventually though, after a lot of tripping and fumbling and laughter, they got to the bed. Sherlock laid Molly down, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin, her soft moans only fuelling his desire. It didn't take long for both of them to become practically mad with desire, Molly's hands tugging at Sherlock's hair, pulling him close and between her thighs.

Just when Sherlock nudged himself against her entrance, a spark of reasonable thought shone through the haze that was currently his mind. "Condom," he said hoarsely, and Molly shook her head. "Pill."

He nodded slightly, relieved, because at this point, he really hadn't an ounce of self-control, and neither did Molly. "Fuck me already," she let out, letting out a huff. Sherlock's nose pressed into her neck, biting down gently on the apex of her shoulder as he entered her. Their lips met after a few sloppy thrusts, and they kissed a few times as he built up a rhythm, though sometimes they missed eachother's mouths.

Molly's orgasm hit her hard, and she cried out his name, which brought him over the edge too. When he collapsed on top of her, he fell asleep almost immediately, and so did Molly.

The following morning, Molly woke with a pounding head, a wetness dripping between her thighs, a hardness at her arse, and something warm encompassing her that wasn't a blanket. Rubbing at her eyes, she let out a soft groan, the light making her eyes ache.

Sherlock stirred behind her, and it took a moment for him to register that this was not his bed. In fact, this room was not even remotely familiar. Pieces of the former night came back to him as he pressed a hand to his forehead, and he pulled back slightly to stare down, shocked, at Molly's bare back.

She sat up ramrod straight and stared at him with wide eyes, lips parting slightly. "Oh," she said very softly. Sherlock only gazed at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but she could see hazy inner turmoil in his eyes.

"It appears that we had sexual intercourse last night," he said simply, his gaze darting away from hers.

"Uh. Yeah," she replied, tugging the blanket up over her naked body. An awkward few moments passed, before Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it might be better if we try again in a less hazy state of mind." he quirked a brow at her in question. Molly stared at him for a moment before practically tackling him, her mouth pressing against his.

Later on, before Mary and John's departure, they had quite a laugh at Molly and Sherlock's expense. But a talk after their second bout of love making confirmed how they both felt, and Molly realised that if Mary and John hadn't gotten married, she wouldn't finally have Sherlock.


End file.
